


Didn't see that coming

by flxgh



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Background Relationships, Family Drama, Gen, Post-Recall, Team Talon (Overwatch), though for some of them you really have to squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flxgh/pseuds/flxgh
Summary: Sombra had lost all interest in her family at a young age. After all, her mother had abandoned her and her father hadn’t even been there when she was born. Why should she care about them? She was a self-made, independent woman, capable of handling anything that was thrown her way. Still, when she'd found herself face to face with her father, she'd been momentarily speechless.In her defense, he’d also frozen up. Maybe reacting badly to unexpected encounters with long-lost relatives ran in the family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [expectopatronuts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectopatronuts/gifts).



For a supposedly unfeeling, calm and collected person, Widowmaker drove like a madwoman consumed by panic. To be fair, her face didn’t betray any sign of unrest and her hands on the steering wheel were relaxed, her movements precise, if a bit brusque. The road that was leading them away from Eichenwalde and into the German countryside soon had them bordering green fields full of grazing sheep.

Unfortunately, Sombra was too busy bleeding to death on the backseat to appreciate the scenery. And she did like sheep. In any other circumstance, she would have been sitting right besides Widow, attempting to annoy her by giving her one of her infamous monologues. As it was, the most she could do was try to lift her face and growl in pain. It earned her a disapproving glance from Widow, who tossed her another one of the biotic grenades they’d stoled. It bleeped twice and started emitting its golden glow. The pain receded a bit.

“Widow, we can’t keep wasting them like this,” Sombra mumbled. “What’s Moira going to say when we get back with less than promised?”

“You wouldn't last ten minutes without the biotic field keeping you alive,” the other woman sniffed. "Besides, it's not a waste if it's healing you."

“Your driving will kill me before my injuries do. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Sombra joked. “I’m pretty sure the glow is visible from outside. A car emitting golden light, well, that’s not very inconspicuous.”

“The priority right now is getting you back to the base. Loosing you means loosing an important asset,” Widowmaker gritted out.

“That makes me feel all warm inside, Widow, I didn’t know you cared so much about me.”

“Do me a favor and be quiet before I leave you to die with the sheep.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re better company than you. No offense, of course, _querida_ ,” she went to laugh, but the wave of pain that arched through her back turned it into a groan. Her vision darkened for a few seconds and she closed her eyes, breathing slowly until her injuries stopped hurting. She stayed like that, trying to wind down. Widowmaker most definitely didn't seem to mind the silence. Minutes later, Sombra was out of it.

She woke up when she was jostled against the seat on a turn. Her back was on fire, and the biotic field was starting to grow fainter. Sombra spared a glance and noticed that, though they were still driving through the middle of nowhere, it had grown dark outside. Based on that, she must have slept for a bit more than an hour. The base couldn’t be far off.

“…complications. Yes. I don’t know exactly, but it doesn’t look great. The biotic fields have kept her from bleeding out. The wounds began to close a while ago, I suppose it’s a bit better. I don’t know, her spine is probably messed up. With the amount of metal in her body, I can’t tell. I’m not a doctor, Reaper,” Widowmaker was talking into the communicator, one hand on the steering wheel and the other one holding the small device.

“Widow, there’s something really wrong with my systems,” Sombra interrupted.

“We’re almost there. Reaper has the medics on standby and ready to rush you down to surgery. Moira is being flown down from Oasis to take a look at it. She’s bringing her tech.”

“All of that for me? Tell him I’m flattered. And to start looking for my mechanic. It’s not just the organic parts that got fucked up.”

“Widowmaker,” Reaper’s voice came in through the communicator again.

"Still here,” she said. "She's awake."

“I managed to get Moira on the line. She should be able to give you some advice.”

“Copy that. Reaper, Sombra says that she’ll need someone to take a look at her systems.”

“I’ll go track down her mechanic as soon as you arrive.”

“Last thing I know, she was in Numbani,” she interjected.

“I got it," he replied. "Moira’s ready. I’m passing you over,” there was a click and a moment of static as the comm picked up the new frequency. They waited in silence for a few seconds, and Widowmaker spared her a glance on the rear-view mirror. Sombra gave her a small grin.

“Concerned, Widowmaker?”

“Only that those blood stains won’t come out.”

“Ouch,” Sombra leaned her head back down just as the connection was finally stablished.

“Moira here.”

“What’s your status?,” Widow asked.

“I’m set to board the plane. How’s Sombra doing?”

“It hurts.”

“Bleeding’s stopped. Possible spine fractures, judging from the accident she had,” Widowmaker repeated.

“If I have spine fractures, Widow, you shouldn’t be driving me around like this.”

“I’m open to better ideas.”

“Now, now, children. Please focus. Sombra, you have reinforcements in your back for all your computer stuff, right?” Moira asked. Sombra grunted the affirmative. “Those might have protected you a bit. Bad news is that they’ve probably broken and it’s likely that some fragments are stuck where they shouldn’t be. Widow, how many biotic fields have you deployed?”

“The second one is about to run out now.”

“So they do last quite long, don’t they? How long would you say? More than an hour? I’ll have to time it properly, of course, before I get down to examining them, but—”

“Didn’t you just tell us to focus, Moira?” Widowmaker interrupted. It was a good thing too, because the doctor was known to go on a tangent and never come back.

“Yes, of course. How long have you been on the road?”

“A bit over two hours. We’re almost back to base.”

“If this were a normal biotic field she should be doing better already. It’s possible that in order to make the portable version last so long they might have had to decrease the potency, but it could also be that Sombra’s systems are disrupting the field," the doctor hummed to herself for a second. "More things to test, I suppose."

“I’ve never had trouble, during missions, with biotic fields,” Sombra frowned.

“Those fields usually don’t last more than a minute. Continued exposure has been known to cause some weird reactions. There are people who have even built some resistance to the nanites. Or maybe your broken systems are sending weird signals and interfering. Is that possible?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Sombra said. “Reaper went to find my mechanic, so if you need more details, he can probably get them.”

“I’ll tell him to. We’ll probably have to take out all of the pieces in your back, so be ready to replace them."

“Ugh. Nothing works without my back.”

“Don’t get injured next time.”

“Valuable advice, doc.”  
  
“Get some more rest and stop chattering, Sombra. We’re just ten minutes away,” Widowmaker told her. “Moira, I’ll keep you updated so you know what to expect when you get there.”

“You do that.”

****

Two hours and three coffees after Widowmaker had left Sombra in the care of the doctors, the doors of the tiny surgery room swung open, letting out six exhausted medics. Four of them headed off in tired silence, and the other one approached her. Behind him, Widow glimpsed two others moving Sombra to a bed with wheels and preparing to roll her out.

“Excuse me,” the man said. “I’ve been instructed to inform you of the results of the surgery, so that you may pass it on to the others.”

Translation: Reaper was noisy and wanted her to keep him informed.

“Go ahead."

“We found some shrapnel embedded in her back. As far as we know, some of it was shrapnel from the explosion, and some from the shattered titanium prosthetic," the doctor sighed quietly. "The smaller fragments were still in there. The biotic field healed the worst injuries, but it also made our job of getting the remainder of the metal out harder."

"And?"

“It seems like Dr. O’Deorain was right. The prosthetics in her back did protect her spine. She might not have survived without them. As it is, she does have some tiny fractures, certainly not made better by how long it took to get her to us, and which the biotic grenade couldn't properly treat.”

“How is she now?”

“After removing her circuits, we were able to heal them properly. She will be fine. Still, a couple of weeks’ rest would be nice. Dr. O’Deorain talked about getting some nanite implants in there for a little bit just to be sure it all goes well, but we’ll have to wait for her return to do that. For now, we’re keeping her under a proper biotic field. Just in case.”

“Moira said something about continued exposure being harmful,” Widowmaker frowned, shifting the grip on her riffle to lean it against her other shoulder.

“We think that the risk is worth taking. Usually the effects aren’t very bad. A bit of fatigue, slower healing after a little while. Nothing worth worrying about. But her spine is still a bit fragile, and she has lost a lot of blood.The field should help with that.”

“When will we be able to put her back on the field?”

“My estimate is that no less than a month. It also depends on how much time is needed to replace her circuits, but…”

“I see. Alert me when Dr. O’Deorain arrives.”

“Yes, of course.”

With that, she left the med bay. If it even could be called that. They were in one of Talon’s smaller bases. The job was supposed to be a short one, with no complications, and they should have been able to return to headquarters in no more than three days. It seemed, however, that their stay would be a bit longer than planned. Shaking her head at the thought of having to spend more time than necessary in the half abandoned outpost, Widowmaker made her way towards her assigned room. She had a rifle to clean, and causal clothes to change into.

“Reaper. Come in,” she said, turning on her communicator as she made her way to the other side of the base.

“Here,” his voice came through after a couple of seconds. “How’s everything?”

“The medics managed to heal Sombra’s back. It seems she’ll be fine, but they did remove her prosthetics, so her circuits are messed up.”

“I’m en route to Numbani.”

“Hurry. The sooner she’s up and operational, the sooner we can get out of here,” then, she gave a little sigh. “Any plans to find the new pieces?”

“I’m sure her mechanic will help with that. Is Moira there yet?”

“No, but it shouldn’t be very long now.”

“Tell her to call me after she’s taken a look at Sombra.”

“I will.”

She cut out the conversation before he could reply, knowing that if she gave him the opportunity, he'd hound her for details obsessively. Stopping before one of the doors of the hall, she punched in her code and entered the room. Home sweet home, at least until Sombra was back on her feet, it seemed. It was really no more than a tiny cubicle, with barely enough space for the bed and the closet, and way too many blankets piled up on a chair. She frowned at them. She wouldn’t be needing them, not even during the frosty nights of the German winter.

But Sombra might appreciate them. She always complained when they were stationed somewhere colder. Widowmaker could almost hear her now.

“I’m not made for this, Widow. Sun, heat. That’s more like my kind of thing.”

And then, she would turn to Reaper, who would be wrapped in a blanket and wearing two sweaters, standing close to the furnace as he made some kind of fancy dinner, because it was one of those rare nights when they didn’t have any business to conduct and the three of them happened to be together at the same base, and hell if they weren’t going to do something nice for it. Also, ordering pizza while staying at a top secret terrorist safe house seemed like a bad idea.

_“¿Verdad, Gabe? We should turn up the heater. After all, it’s not like we’re going to be the ones paying the bills.”_

Sometimes, on even rarer occasions, Moira would leave Oasis and join them. And then she would spend the whole evening needling Reaper and getting glares from him, while insisting that Widowmaker should put on a scarf and drowning out her protests with comically fake excuses.

_“I know you’re not cold. I’m going to start knitting seriously and open a little shop of handmade clothing. You know, sweaters, hats, that sort of thing. I want you to model for me.”_

_“Moira, this scarf is from the Gap.”_

_“No, it’s not. I’m just imitating their designs. Stop laughing, Reyes, or I’ll make you model the entire beanie collection.”_

Widowmaker, who had been living for a good while with dulled emotions, didn’t think of how close they’d come to not having any more of those nights, which, of course, didn’t hold any special meaning for her. And she most definitely didn’t worry about Sombra as she took the blankets to her in the infirmary. She was just making space in her room.

Clearing out useless things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation time:  
> querida = dear  
> ¿Verdad, Gabe? = Right, Gabe?


	2. Chapter 2

When they were at the main base Widowmaker and Reaper liked to make themselves scarce. In this, they understood each other: they only enjoyed the company of a few select people, and always on their own terms. Reaper had always valued his privacy above everything and disliked big crowds, but Amélie had been the life of any party. Outgoing, charismatic, sociable and capable of befriending anyone in less than five minutes, and all of that had been lost somewhere along the process that turned her into a first-class sniper.

An inevitable side effect of erasing all emotions from a person, Moira supposed.

Their tendency to disappear usually meant that Moira had to wander around for a good while, stopping everyone in the hall to ask if they had seen a woman with blue skin or a man trailing shadowy smoke around. One would think that, as unusual as they were, people would remember seeing them, but they somehow managed to go around unnoticed when they wanted to. Then again, they were experts in infiltration and covert ops, so maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising.

Luckily for her, they weren’t at the main base, not even at one of the more used secondary bases. They were in a relatively small warehouse that had been remodeled to suit the organization’s purposes. It meant that they didn’t have as many places to go an hide. After checking their rooms, the small training room that was in the process of falling apart and the kitchen, she headed for a small room that had formerly been used for storage and that had become their meeting place.

They were, indeed, there, which was quite puzzling to Moira, because she sure didn’t like to spend her free time in her work place. Reaper was finally out of his usual dramatic outfit, feet propped up on the wooden table, reading reports and Widowmaker was sitting on the other side of the room, cleaning her rifle and fiddling with the cable she used to swing from high place to high place during missions. Both of them looked up when she opened the door, neither seeming particularly happy to see her. With a sigh, Reaper threw the papers down on the desk, letting them scatter and crossed his arms.

“What?” Widowmaker asked, not raising her eyes from her riffle.

“Delightful to see you too. I have both good news and bad news.”

“Good news first,” Reaper said.

“Well then,” she drew out a chair for herself and sat down, back straight and her hands on top of the table, fingers interlaced. “Sombra is going to be just fine. We’ve fixed her back for good, the nanites did their job beautifully. All that’s left is to replace her prosthetic and fix her circuits, and she’ll be good to go. I’ve spoken with her mechanic, we’re planning the procedures.”

“So she’ll be back on her feet soon and we can get out of here.”

“Exactly. Now, for the bad news,” Moira paused for a second and leaned back on her chair. “We need to rob a hospital.”

“What, are there not enough supplies here?” Reyes’ frown was a familiar thing. She’d seen it many times when they’d both been in Blackwatch, when his carefully crafted plan went to hell and they were left scrambling to find a solution and cut their loses as quickly as possible. Moira fixed her eyes on her ruined hand as she tapped her nails against the table twice.

“If we operated the usual way, we would. This is the first time we’re using this base in a long time, so we can only work with what we brought, which is mostly nanotech. And not a lot of it either, because this was supposed to be a quick, easy mission, right?”

"Right," Widowmaker put her riffle down and focused her attention on the conversation.

“And Sombra has starting developing a resistance to the nanites,” Moira continued. “She only has the lightest of the side effects from overexposure yet, dizziness and the such, but I don’t want it to get worse. And I also don’t want the resistance to stick around, because treating any injury without nanotech is much harder.”

“I see,” Reyes rubbed his nose, his frown becoming a bit more pronounced. “And I don’t suppose that waiting until Sombra’s resistance has softened enough to operate with nanobiotic equipment is an option.”

“It’s not. Not having her control systems operating could ruin the rest of her circuits and cause even more problems. I will be taking out the nanites that were making sure her spine fractures finished healing well a bit earlier than I would like, because I don’t want this to get worse, but she still won’t recover soon enough for me to risk postponing the procedure,” she paused for a second and fixed them both with a serious look. “I don’t want to bore you with medical mumbo-jumbo that you’re not going to understand, so trust me on this, okay? We need to rob a hospital. I’ll give you a list of things I need and you two can go fetch them.”

“Not coming with us, doctor?” Widowmaker raised her eyebrows. “I thought you’d want to make sure we don’t mess up.”

“I would, but I have to study. It’s been a while since I’ve treated someone without nanotech, so the medical team and I have to brush up on that,” she smirked a bit. “If you want, I can give you pictures so you don’t make mistakes.”

“I think we can recognize a scalpel without help, but thanks,” Reyes’ annoyed growl made her smirk grow even wider.

“We have plenty of scalpels here. You can leave those behind.”

On the bright side, however much he might glare at her, his frown was gone.

  
****

Laying down in a cramped infirmary room for hours was not Sombra’s style. What’s more, Moira had insisted she lay on her stomach, to avoid upsetting her back any further, so she couldn’t even stare at the ceiling like a proper bored person. All she could do was twist her head around to stare at the wall. It had given her a good while to catch up on sleep, which she was thankful for. The weeks before the mission had been complicated. She’d been dealing with some of Talon’s unfinished business with Vishkar, and she hadn’t even had a day of rest when she’d gotten back before Reaper had come to find her and get her onto the plane to the middle of Germany.

Still, there was only so much she could rest, and after two days she was quite ready to get out of bed. Besides Moira, who dropped by once in a while to check on her, only Widowmaker had come to see her. It hadn’t been much of a visit, either. She’d just thrown some blankets at her, told her that they were busy making plans to get medical supplies for her surgery, and left. In any other circumstances, Sombra would have chased her down the hall, asking for details. Why did they need more supplies? Were they going to ask headquarters to send some? What did they need? How long would it take? As things where, she’d only been able to call out after her and stew in righteous anger when she’d been ignored.

More information had come from an unexpected source when Reaper had come into her tiny room, Moira following him, arguing about blood and bone marrow donations.

“Blood is easy,” Moira had said. “I’m sure someone here will match with her.”

“With me?” Sombra had asked, wanting more details, and Moira had waved her hand dismissively. She’d settled down on the pillows and resigned herself to listening to their conversation in silence. She’d probably get more out of it than if she started bothering them, in any case. People seemed to think that she had no impulse control, but the truth was that she'd learned which battles to pick a long, long time ago.

“Bone marrow, on the other hand, is more complicated.”

“We’ll have to figure something out. I don’t think I can stop to check labels for very long while storming a hospital without getting shot in the head.”

“I understand that. Besides, donations are usually kept separately,” she rubbed her forehead for a second. “It might be hard to get to them if you want to go in and get out quickly.”

“I’d rather avoid tangling with local authorities,” Reaper grumbled. “The less we complicate this mess, the better.”

“Well, we can check to see if someone matches, but it’s a pretty slim possibility. Besides, I want it to be a really good one so the operation goes smoothly.”

“I’ll make getting tested mandatory,” Reaper had said. Of course, because they were Talon and as far as they were concerned medical ethics were as real as Scandinavian mythology, so forcing people into donating was fine. Somewhere, deep down, under the tough front she’d been putting up since the Omnic crisis left her on her own, these things bothered her a bit. But she much preferred staying alive than following some random set of morals, so the guilt left her quickly enough.

“You and Widowmaker could skip it,” Moira said. “You're messed up enough that I wouldn’t risk using your donations even if they were a stellar match.”

“No, we’ll do them.”

“Did you listen to a word I just said?”

“Yes. But we need to set up an example.”

“I did not miss that Commander leadership bullshit you used to pull. You don’t need to do that here.”

“Watch me. In fact, let’s get it done now.”

“So, is anyone going to tell me what’s going on, or do I just wait in ignorance until Moira is done scheming and comes to stick needles into me?” Sombra had finally intervened as Reaper rolled his sleeve up, exposing his too pale skin, and Moira got her equipment ready.

“You wait and you rest,” Moira shot her a warning look.

“Done and done, doc. What comes after that?”

“We can have an organization meeting once the results come back and we see what we need,” Reyes said. “Then we choose a hospital to rob. Widowmaker and I get supplies. Moira fixes you up and we get out of here.”

“Great plan, but I'd like to know what I can do.”

“Wait more. And rest more,” Moira repeated, pointing a syringe in her direction. “And if you so much as lift your head from the pillow, I’ll sedate you.”

“ _Vale, vale. Entendido._ ”

Thirty minutes later and a lot of Reaper’s complaining later, he was filing out of the room and Widowmaker was making her way in. Moira pointed to the empty bed and got a new syringe while she settled down on it.

“I’ll be done quickly,” Moira said. Amélie only shrugged in response and suffered through the whole procedure in stoic silence. Sombra smirked as she got up and pulled her shirt back down, getting ready to leave.

"Reyes already called the rest of the base's personnel. People are already coming down," Amélie told the doctor. Moira simply nodded, concentrating on her task.

“Hey, Widow, I really appreciate the blankets. Do you have any more? It’s kinda drafty here,” she said.

“ _Tais-toi_ ,” she muttered as she opened the door. Sombra’s french was terrible, but she’d spent enough time around the other woman to know what that meant.

“I think I’ll move rooms when I take a break. I don’t want to bother you with people coming in and out all the time,” Moira said as she waved the next of her reluctant volunteers in for testing.

“It’s no problem, doc, I’m having so much fun.”

Moira’s long suffering sigh was the only answer she got, but it told her enough.

  
****

Getting the test results took four days. Getting the courage to go talk with the others and tell them what she’d found took half a morning, which she spent gloomily staring at her papers and silently wishing that she’d done something wrong.

She hadn’t. She’d double checked her work and found no problems with it. Of course not. She might be many things, but incompetent wasn’t one of them. So she’d come up with a plan to control the disaster, the first step of which required insistently knocking on Amélie’s door until she opened it.

Predictably, she did so looking annoyed and ready to murder whomever was bothering her. So that’s how, barely an hour before lunch, Moira found herself clutching her papers like a nervous child handing in a high school test, and being stared down by a blue-skinned unfeeling sniper wearing a fluffy bathrobe. She took a second to clear her throat and recompose herself.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“With Sombra, I suppose,” Widowmakee sighed and leaned on the door frame.

“Well, yes. Sort of,” she glanced down at the papers in her hands. “I got the results, and I already know what blood type we need for the donations. I also found what type of bone marrow we need, but the only viable match here on base was Reyes, and I’m not going to transplant his wonky cells onto Sombra, so you’ll have to grab some during your hospital raid.”

“Is that the problem?” she looked rightfully underwhelmed.

“Uh, no. The problem is that Reyes and Sombra matched too well. And I was bored, waiting while the information was processed, so I decided to run a paternity test—”

“You what?”

“Anyways, I thought it’d be just a dumb little thing, maybe something I could use to prank them, I don’t know. I just wanted to pass the time, honestly. But it came back positive.”

“Oh non.”

“Oh non is right. Reyes is going to murder me. Do you think you could set up with your rifle somewhere close by and shoot him if he seems likely to attack me?”

“I’d be more worried about Sombra if I were you,” Moira didn’t answer, staying silent for a few seconds before handing the papers to Amélie, who ruffled through them curiously.

“That’s actually why I came to see you. For better or for worse, I know Gabriel, I’ve been working with him for many years. I can deal with him, and he’s clever enough to know how to handle personal problems without letting them interfere with his work, right? But I’m not so sure about Sombra.”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?”

“You know her better. You two run missions together, and you make an efficient team, so I guess you know how to communicate effectively.”

“You want me to tell her?”

“I want you to make sure she doesn’t compromise the mission and the team by reacting badly when she finds out. It’s important that we finish our business here quickly and get her back on her feet. I don’t want her doing anything stupid.”

“I can try,” Amélie conceded. “But she doesn’t like listening to me.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Moira sighed “Let’s get this over with. We can all meet up in Sombra’s infirmary room. We’ll finish planning for the hospital raid, and then we can break the news. I talk to Reyes, you talk to Sombra, we make sure everything goes down as smoothly as possible.”

“And haven’t you considered keeping the results to yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Usually, you wouldn’t hesitate if you thought it was better for all of us,” Amélie handed the papers back to Moira and took out a communicator and fiddled with it, messaging Reyes to give him details about their impromptu meeting. They set down the hall at a slow pace, neither of them eager for what was to come.

“Reyes is my friend,” Moira answered quietly. “And he deserves to know.”

“Aha. Sure," they continued on in silence, and Moira could almost feel Amélie's judgement. She'd turned one friend into a killing machine and another one into a constantly decomposing ghost, but she still said that she wanted treat them fairly? It made no sense, but feelings, Moira knew, weren't a rational thing that could be measured in a laboratory and neatly controlled.

“Shouldn’t you change out of that bathrobe?” Moira asked as they reached the stairs.

“No. It’s comfortable.”

“Well, then.”

  
****

Reyes was the first to come in, throwing the door to her boring old room open and not bothering to close it behind himself. He took himself to one of the nearby chairs and dropped into it, sighing and giving her a small nod.

“Hard day, Gabe?” Sombra didn’t miss the somewhat resigned glance he gave at her at the sound of his nickname. It didn’t annoy him nearly as much as it used to, which meant that her fun was cut in half. Repetition had allowed him to get over himself and accept it. That was fine. She’d just have to step her game up.

“It’s your fault for getting injured.”

“Do you have something to do here, or did you just want to complain?”

“Amélie called me for a meeting,” he leaned back and crossed his arms. “Apparently, I managed to get here first.”

“Is Moira coming?”

“Of course. She has the test results. What did you think this was about?”

“How am I supposed to know? I just sit here all and stare at the ceiling while some random doctors come and go,” she shrugged. “Sometimes Moira drops by and ignores me. That’s the best part of the day. But no one tells me anything.”

“And you didn’t try to find out?”

“I’ve been relying too much on my implants lately, and my ability to charm information out of people isn’t what it used to be,” she grinned. “Partly because I’m out of practice, but also because I’m not a nice and sweet girl anymore .”

“Please. Nice and sweet? You probably grabbed a machine gun as soon as you came out of the womb and became a professional extortioner at the age of five,” he snorted.

“To be fair, I started at nine, not five. And I did look sweet, even if I wasn’t.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m not showing you my embarrassing kid pictures, Gabe. _En tus sueños_.”  
  
“Not like I’m interested,” he said. And then, they heard footsteps from the hall. A few seconds later the two missing members of their little team appeared. Moira closed the door and sat down, sprawling in her chair, while Amélie simply leaned against the closest wall. There were a few beats of silence, as a tired looking Moira rubbed her eyes and put her papers on the nearby desk.

“Since you called the meeting, Amélie, would you like to start?” Reyes finally asked. The other woman shrugged.

“Moira told me to.”

“Yes, yes I did. There are a few things we must talk about,” she exchanged a wary glance with Amélie before continuing. “First off, the test results are back.”

“So we can finish planning our hospital robbery,” Reyes sighed. “But did we have to do it here of all places?”

“Yes. It’s very important,” Moira replied. He raised his eyebrows, glancing around as if trying to see what was so special about an improvised infirmary set up in a cramped room. “Because Sombra’s here. She can help us plan.”

“What do you have, then?”

“As expected, we’ve got a blood donor on base, so that’s not something we have to worry about anymore. But I’ve got nothing we can use for the bone marrow,” she explained. “So here’s the thing. I’ve made a list of everything we need. It should be relatively easy to find, in any hospital, and thankfully there’s nothing too bulky or hard to transport, so we won’t need a full blown operation.”

“We can handle it,” said Amélie, nodding to Reyes.

“What we need to do now, is find some nice bone marrow.”

“Please don’t call it nice, doc,” Sombra said.

“Anyways,” Amélie rolled her eyes, and the motion was so charged with exasperation that it made Sombra feel like she’d fail some kind of etiquette test. “How are we going to find a good match?”

“There’s a world database that records donations. Not only for bone marrow, you know. It comes in handy when you need to do an urgent transplant. I can put Sombra’s information into it and have it find us the best option for her. Then we see where the matching marrow is being kept, and we get it.”

“That sounds great in theory,” Reyes interjected. “But we’re a small team. It’d be best to find a match that’s kept in a reasonably small facility. Even better if it’s in a place where we have… uh… friends that can help us and keep an eye out for local authorities and other complications,” he scratched his cheek for a moment and surveyed all of them. “All I’m saying is that a match kept in a high profile, well defended facility might not be the best option for us.”

“We were also a small team when we infiltrated Volskaya, which had pretty tough security,” Sombra pointed out. “And when you went to retrieve Doomfist’s weird glove, it was just you and Amélie.”

“And we failed both times,” Reyes reminded her.

“But it was a close thing, right? And in the museum it was only because your old Overwatch pals decided to drop by. I seriously doubt we’ll have the bad luck of running into them again, specially when they don’t know when and where we’re striking. Hell, they don’t even know we’re striking at all.”

“She does have a point,” Moira said. “We did just fine when we broke Doomfist out of prison, and Helix Security is run by professionals. I don’t think a research facility or a hospital will be that well defended.”

“And Amélie took care of Tracer just fine when she went to assassinate Mondatta,” Sombra added. “I’m sure she could do it again.”

“ _Évidemment_ ,” Amélie scoffed.  
  
“ _¿Ves, Gabe?_ ”

“I’m not saying it can’t be done. Or that we shouldn’t try if it comes down to it,” Reyes scowled. “It’s just that it is in our interest to do this as quickly as possible, and without a lot of fuss.”

“What would be a strategically good place, then?”

“Amaravati, maybe. Vishkar has plenty of influence there and they should be able to make things much easier.”

“Yes, but can we press Vishkar to help us with this?” Moira interjected. “They won’t see the gain in it. Sombra’s just one agent.”

“An useful one,” Amélie observed.

“But a loose cannon,” Moira replied. Sombra didn’t miss the way Reyes assessed her for a few moments, nor the thoughtful look that crossed his face. She knew he’d been suspicious of her for her interference during the Volskaya mission, but she thought he’d let that go months ago. She’d have to keep an eye on that, she supposed. “Even with two of us on the council, I don’t know how much we can do.”

“Oasis would be my second choice,” Reyes said. “If you’re up for it.”

“I don’t know if I can pull strings fast enough, specially being away. I do have a couple of people I might trust enough for this, and who could make security a bit laxer, but the Minister of Medicine likes to keep everything nice and organized, and she’s fairly competent, so she could make things difficult for us.”

Reyes leaned his forehead on his hand and closed his eyes for a second. “There are a couple of places in Australia that are lawless enough that it would be easy to infiltrate.”

“You mean the Outbacks, don’t you?” Moira asked. “It might be hard to find everything on my list there. Places brimming with radioactive contamination that the government has abandoned aren’t known for having plenty of medical supplies, as the life expectancy of forty years indicates.”

"You're on fire today, doc," Sombra smiled. "You're just shutting his ideas down one by one. Can we just officially name you the new plan maker of our tiny group?" as expected, her comment was received with a couple of eye rolls and not much more. Though Moira did look sort of pleased.

“We could just rob an old Watchpoint,” Amélie mused. “Dr. Ziegler always made sure they were well stocked. And Overwatch is severely understaffed. If we pick one that is empty, it should be easy.”

“Not a great idea. If there were still bone marrow samples lying around, they wouldn’t be in any condition fit for use. And they won't be registered in the database.”

“I might have something,” Sombra said, smirking a bit. “See, I still have a couple of friends in Dorado. Not anything like a big, influential mega-corporation, they’re just the local street gang, but they should still be able to have our backs.”

“For a price, I suppose,” said Reyes.

“Well, they do own me a couple of favors, but if they’re going to have to tangle with the police, they might ask for a little extra. I know they’ve been having some trouble with a riffle-wielding idiot who covers his face with some kind of high-tech visor and has a horrible taste in jackets, so if instead of money you want to help with that, it’d probably be an option.”

“Wasn’t he in Egypt?” Moira asked Reyes.

“He was, a couple of months ago. I didn’t know he’d gone back to Mexico.”

“So you know this guy?”

“Same riffle-wielding idiot that’s been emptying out old Watchpoints and who messed up our operation to catch the Shrike.”

“Morrison,” Amélie said, nodding to herself. “What business does he have with los Muertos?”

“The vigilante shit has really gone to his head, I guess,” Reyes remarked dryly. “I don’t know. But if he’s in Dorado he could be a problem. Even more if Amari’s still with him.”

“The Shrike was involved in an incident with Helix Security a couple of days ago. I’d say they’ve split up. For now, at least,” Moira said.

“How do you know that?” Reyes asked her. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I read the newspapers. It was in the _Oasis Weekly_.”

" _Oasis Weekly_ ," Reyes repeated, and Moira smirked at him.

“In any case, he won’t have time to do much if we do things right,” Amélie said. “Moira, start looking for matches there. Sombra,” she tossed a small pad to her. “See if you can get in touch with your friends and come to an agreement.”

“You have a plan?” Reyes asked.

“Well, it kind of fits. You get to settle your unfinished business with Morrison and continue in your quest to hunt down former Overwatch agents, and at the same time we pay for the gang supporting us,” she said. “And if he does bother us during the job, we can deal with him then and there and be done with it, instead of having to go looking for him afterwards.”

Reyes tilted his head, considering her words. “If I distract him long enough, will you be able to shoot him?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t think you’ll be able to take him?”

“I'm not sure,” he scowled.

“You said you had him in Egypt, until the Shrike came.”

“Because I took him by surprise.”

“I might have a really good match in the area, just give me a second…”

“See? Everything fits,” Sombra beamed.

“No, never mind. The information was from a girl who needed a transplant herself a couple of years ago. There’s a second match… not as good, but enough, and it’s available,” she sighed. “Okay. The bone marrow isn’t kept in the local hospital itself, but in a building nearby, where it can be properly stored.”

“We might have to split up, then,” Widowmaker said. “If we go to the hospital first and to the other building afterwards, local authorities will have time to swarm the place.”

“We’ll be more effective that way,” Reyes nodded. “But that leaves us with the problem of dealing with Morrison. We might be able to take on him alone, but it’s not a sure thing. I don’t like our chances.”

“So take me along,” Sombra interrupted. “Moira has studying to do, and you obviously don’t trust the other people on this base enough. I’m the obvious choice.”

“Your circuits aren’t working and your back was broken less than a week ago,” Widowmaker deadpanned.

“My injuries are fine now. I can shoot and I can run. And this isn’t really a hacking mission, is it?”

“If you get injured again, fixing you up is going to be tough,” Moira warned her. "No nanites to help, you'll have to suffer through a long, boring recovery."

“I’ll be fine. These two can look after me if things go wrong,” Sombra sat up in her bed. “Listen. Reyes goes to the hospital and makes a lot of noise while getting the supplies, so the police, Morrison, and any other goodie-two-shoes in the area head that way to do justice. But the gang will be out in full force, they’ll make up some fake disturbance and stop them for a little while, until you have what you need. Meanwhile, Widowmaker and I go get the bone marrow, and if, for any reason, the good guys come our way, we can help each other. Right?”

“I’m still not happy with putting you on the mission. I don’t want you fighting so soon, and with the other building so close to the hospital, I’d say it’s almost unavoidable,” Reyes pointed out.

“So we don’t get the donation at the building,” Moira spoke up. “We kidnap the little girl that matched best. Who’s going to bother guarding some random house while the hospital is under attack?.”

“And we can deal with Morrison on the way out. If we finish first, Amélie shoots him. If you finish first, you shoot him, while he’s busy with the gang. I take the girl to the transport, we rendezvous and we get out,” Sombra finished. “Give me some credit, Gabe. It’s a pretty solid plan, compared to what I usually come up with.”

“Kidnapping children?”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to keep her forever, right? We’re just going to take some bone marrow,” Moira said. “Afterwards we dump her in the nearest town, and that’s that.”

“This is really getting out of hand,” overall, he didn’t look very convinced, but he finally nodded. “But I guess it’ll have to do.”

“You’ve done crazier things,” Moira patted him once on the back as she returned to her chair.

“If that’s all, I have a hospital layout to memorize,” he got up, but Moira stopped him with a hand motion.

“Actually, there’s… something else,” she picked up her stack of papers again and ruffled through them nervously. “We did have a match on base, but I couldn’t use it because it was Reyes. Which is a shame, really, because it was a very, very good match. And I was kind of curious about that, so I ran a couple of tests more, and things got out of hand, because the paternity test came back positive,” the last part came out quickly, and they were all left in a stunned silence as Reyes and Sombra tried to process the news. Then Sombra started laughing.

“Nice one, Moira,” she chuckled. “Is this revenge for that time I dyed your pants yellow?”

“I’m serious, Sombra,” she said as she handed the papers to a still-quiet Reyes, who ruffled through them wordlessly.

“Even made a couple of fake documents?”

“It’s not a joke,” Widowmaker finally said. “It’s not.”

Sombra fell quiet and stared at Reyes, her expression unreadable, as he passed the papers to her. She looked at them with something that resembled fury, before throwing them to the side. He was looking at her, something careful in his gaze. As if she were a dangerous explosive and he weren’t sure if she was about to blow up in his face. It took half a minute of uncomfortable silence before she did, in which they stared at each other not quite knowing what to do, but the explosion came in the end.

“It doesn’t change anything, you hear me? I don’t want a family, and as far as I’m concerned, I still don’t have one. We work together, and that’s the end of it. _No quiero saber nada de esto, me da igual. ¿Me entiendes?_ ” he didn’t reply right away, but his expression became colder, shut off.

“Fine by me,” he finally said, before getting up and leaving the room. Not quickly, but in the same detached way in which he dealt with everything. As if nothing ever truly bothered him, and problems were nothing but passing, minor annoyances. For once, Sombra had to wonder if it was a fake front he put up for the sake of appearances of if he just really didn't care that much. For once, she couldn't tell, and the uncertainty left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Both of you can leave, too,” she said, sounding a bit tired. Moira and Amélie filed out, neither of them bothering to argue with her, closing.

“You know what comes now,” she heard Moira tell Amélie. The other woman's reply was too quiet for her to make out. Then, their footsteps faded away. Finally alone, she leaned back on her pillows. 

Somehow, pushing Reyes away didn’t feel as good as it was supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update from the slowest writer in the whole wide world! What a miracle. I hope to have chapter three by the end of Easter, but I'm not going to make any promises, because I suck at respecting my self-imposed deadlines.
> 
> Translation time:
> 
> Vale, vale. Entendido = Okay, okay. Understood.  
> Tais-toi = Shut up  
> Évidemment = Evidently  
> ¿Ves, Gabe? = You see, Gabe?  
> No quiero saber nada de esto, me da igual. ¿Me entiendes? = I don't want to know anything about this, I don't care. Do you understand me?


	3. Chapter 3

“Ready?”  
  
    Amélie’s voice startled Sombra out of her reverie. She got up, surprised, and turned to face the door, where she was standing, already in full gear. It was a bit embarrassing. She’d been so out of it that she hadn’t even heard the door open.  
  
    “I’m…” for once, she didn’t have a snappy comeback to offer.  
  
    “Obviously not. We have a plane to catch.”  
  
    “I know that. And it’s not like it can leave without us.”  
  
    “Still, you should hurry,” Amélie surveyed her, taking in her rumpled appearance. “Rough night, huh.”  
  
    “It’s nothing. I need to drop by my room,” she got up, leaving the infirmary bed for the first time in almost a week. Stretching her arms over her head, she smiled when she saw Amélie’s scowl. “Unless you think a flimsy hospital gown is a good attire for the mission. For the undercover mission in which we’re not supposed to draw attention to ourselves. I’m sure it’ll be totally inconspicuous in Dorado.”  
  
    “Stop that. It’s not like your fluorescent purple leggins are any better.”  
  
    “And here I thought you liked them,” Sombra was trying her best to keep her usual snark flowing, as casually as ever, but judging from the looks Amélie was throwing at her, she wasn’t succeeding all that well. Well, fake it ‘till you make it. Yes, she’d had a rough night, and yes, she was a bit upset about finding her father. Her reaction hadn’t been the best, but she meant what she’d said: it didn’t change anything. She’d been alone for a long time, and she’d managed just fine. She didn’t need her estranged family popping back into her life. She gave Amélie another grin, still a bit strained, when they reached her room. “Let me just take care of my beauty routine. I’ll be out in a minute.”  
  
    Closing the door, and being alone again came as an unexpected relief. She let out a tired sigh. For once, she wasn’t in the mood to be sarcastic and try her best to annoy her teammates. She just wanted to be alone until the whole matter blew over and she was feeling a bit calmer. Until she could treat it as if it really were irrelevant to her.  
  
    “Fake it ‘till you make it,” she muttered to herself before walking across the room. She had a pile of clothes lying on the bed, which she hadn’t bothered to put away when she’d unpacked. She fished around in it, grabbing a few things, and disappeared into the tiny bathroom.  
  
    Strangely, her machine gun was on top of the toilet. She was pretty sure she hadn’t left it there. Pulling off her hospital gown, she changed quickly, picked up extra munition and rejoined Amélie, who was waiting for her outside.  
  
    “You know, it’s funny. My gun was on the toilet. I guess someone dropped it off after our failed mission, but of all the places to put it, did they have to choose the toilet?”  
  
    “It was me,” Amélie said. Sombra gave her an incredulous look. “I got distracted.”  
  
    “With what? The tiny shower that is the same in all rooms and always overflows? Why were you even in the bathroom?”  
  
    “Why are people ever in the bathroom?”

* * *

  
    There had been a time back in Blackwatch when Reyes had still believed himself capable of escaping conversation with Moira by walking very fast. It usually worked with other people. He was fairly tall, had long legs, endurance, and a lot of practice with power walking. His interlocutors tended to get uncomfortable after a while of senselessly rushing after him. Back in the day, only Reinhardt and Morrison had posed a challenge, but Morrison was too polite to chase Reyes when he clearly didn’t want to talk, and seeing as they operated in different branches, Reinhardt had almost never had a reason to seek him out.  
  
    Then came Moira, standing four inches taller than him with leg length to spare, and with plenty of reasons to seek him out and pester him. Gabriel Reyes, brilliant commander and strategist, had been at a loss as to how to escape from her for a while. Then, after he’d started turning into smoke, he’d once attempted to float up an air conduct. She’d followed him through there too (and they’d almost gotten stuck in there, but they didn’t talk about that, lest Sombra find out and never let them forget the ridiculous moment).  
  
    So once again, he found himself unable to shake her off. Which was a shame, because Moira had a tendency to bring up things he didn’t particularly want to discuss, with her or with anyone else. Such as the fact that he had a daughter and he’d never known.  
  
    “Fact is, Reyes, that you can’t ignore this,” Moira said as he turned a corner sharply. “Awkward tension isn’t good for the team.”  
  
    “She wants me to ignore it, I’m more than happy to.”  
  
    “Liar. I’m calling bullshit.”  
  
    “My personal life has never—“  
  
    “Existed,” she interrupted. “I know, I’m aware, but it does now, so you have to do something about that.”  
  
    “I was going to say it’s never been my main focus, but whatever,” he sighed, pushing open the door to the small hangar where they kept the plane hidden. He leaned against the door frame, fixing her with a tired look. “It’s not going to interfere, I promise. We’re all professionals, we can deal with this for a couple days more. Then we’ll go our separate ways to deal with different missions, and we don’t have to put up with each other anymore.”  
  
    “Really healthy, yes. You should write a book on how to handle interpersonal relationships,” she rolled her eyes. “Step one: ignore them and run away.”  
  
    “I don’t think you’re the best person to lecture me about healthy relationships.”  
  
    “Oh?”  
  
    “You and Ziegler were a train wreck,” he stated dryly before turning around and heading towards the plane.  
  
    “Don’t change the topic. Look, your brilliant plan isn’t all that brilliant. Pushing on with this mission, going your separate ways as if nothing happened, avoid each other forever… It’s just not going to work out.”  
  
    “It could.”  
  
    “It won’t, and you’re clever enough to see that,” she pointed a finger at his face. “Be realistic. How many times have you worked with Sombra in the past three months? Six missions?”  
  
    “Nine. It’s been busy.”  
  
    “And at least four of them were kind of important, right? The type that take a good while to complete, resources, good agents and a team that knows how to work together properly,” she looked at him, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. “You and Sombra can do that. And Talon’s not going to give up on a very effective team just like that. Unless you feel like explaining your whole family drama?”  
  
    “No, not really,” he grunted and slung the two heavy bags he’d been carrying off his shoulders and left them on the ground.  
  
    “I see your point, Moira, but I don’t know what I can do.”  
  
    “I too thought at the beginning that ignoring each other might be your best bet,” she sat down on top of one of the bags, and after a few seconds, he gave in and sat on the other one. “But I’ve been thinking about it, and you might just need something more functional than that.”  
  
    “I know, but you heard her yesterday,” he paused for a moment, and hunched down to lean his forearms on his thighs, lowering his head. “I just… When I first enlisted I thought I’d most likely stay in the military until I was old, and then retire and become a grouchy man living in a crappy apartment with six cats and scaring off the neighbours’ kids. And then, with the Omnic Crisis that turned into staying in the military until some damned robot shoots me dead or I die of boredom while managing the bureaucracy. But I never thought of having children.”  
  
    “Hey,” she nudged his shoulder with her own, and when he looked up, she gave him her best smile. Admittedly, it wasn’t a great one, but enough to make his lip twitch upwards a bit. “It’ll be fine. It’s not the end of the world. So what if you never planned to have children? She’s an adult. It’s not like you have to take care of a newborn. You just need a mildly functional relationship.”  
  
    “I don’t even know her name,” he raised his head. “She’s my daughter and I don’t know her name. Fucking god, this is a mess, and I’m probably the worst parent ever.”  
  
    “You didn’t even know you had a daughter before yesterday. And about the name, that’s her fault. Look, you’ve got a criminal daughter that goes by her hacking alias, which incidentally most people associate with a corporation, not a single person. It could be worse. Besides, if you’d known, I’m sure you would have been great at this dad thing. You practically adopted McCree and shaped him up into something… uh… presentable,” she heard him chuckle at that. “That’s something.”  
  
    “I couldn’t even get the ingrate to take off the hat. Or that fucking blanket.”  
  
    “Serape.”  
  
    “Same difference.”  
  
    “Look at you. Talking about your feelings. I’m so proud,” she poked his side.  
  
    “Look at you,” he countered. “Giving life advice and pep talks.”  
  
    “Someone has to keep you from falling apart.”  
  
    “Must be hard when I can literally decompose into smoke.”  
  


* * *

  
  
    It was, Amélie thought, the most peaceful plane ride she’d ever had with Sombra on board. For once, there was quiet. But while she was thankful for having some time to herself, she couldn’t really shake off the strangeness of not having her companion chattering in the usual manner.  
  
    Sombra had deflated as soon as she’d laid eyes on Reyes waiting by the plane, speaking quietly with Moira. She’d suddenly grown quiet, stopped making an effort to seem like she was fine and acting like normal. It made Amélie think that maybe giving her space before speaking to her about the whole issue had been a mistake. Maybe she should have talked to her as soon as she’d had the chance.  
  
    Reyes and Moira, on the other hand, had stopped talking as soon as they had appeared. They’d finished loading up the plane and Reyes had headed inside after Sombra. Moira had stopped Amélie for a second as she went to follow.  
  
    “I got him to talk about his feelings,” she’d said. “A miracle, but it’s something. He knows they need a functional relationship.”  
  
    “Good. I still haven’t started with Sombra.”  
  
    “See if you can get some quality time with her in between blowing up hospitals and kidnapping kids, yeah?”  
  
    “Sure.”  
  
    And that’s how she’d ended up in a confined space with Reyes pretending really hard to be asleep to forestall any awkwardness and with Sombra fidgeting with her gun, not saying anything, looking as if she’d rather jump out the plane than spend another minute in it.  
  
    But she’d never been one to complain about the quiet, so she just relaxed for a bit and tried to think of how the conversation with Sombra should go. She didn’t manage to get very far. There was just no good way to start. How the fuck had Moira managed to have a normal conversation with Reyes about it? It probably helped that they’d known each other for decades.  
  
    Halfway through the flight Reyes pretended so hard that he actually managed to fall asleep. Sombra got tired of fidgeting and stood up to go check on the cargo. At least that’s what she said. She came back when the pilot announced they were going to land. Amélie shook Reyes awake and he got up to grab a glass of water before gathering his equipment and starting to get ready. She inspected her riffle and grappling hook and found everything in order, grabbed enough ammo to punch through a sizeable force and settled in to wait for the others.  
  
    By the time the aircraft was positioned above one of Dorado’s rooftops, in an area towards the outskirts controlled by los Muertos, where people were less likely to ask questions and raise alarms, they were all ready to go. Reyes checked Moira’s list of supplies one last time before putting it in his pocket and placing the mask on his face.  
  
    “I got shopping to do,” he said. Under the mask, Amélie couldn’t see his expression, and his voice was fairly steady. “Don’t fuck up.”  
  
    And then he was gone with a swirl of shadowy smoke. Dramatic. Amélie raised her eyebrows at Sombra.  
  
    “Well? We have to get in place. Let’s go.” She jumped out onto the nearest rooftop and Sombra followed.  
  
    They made slow progress. Slower than normal. They kept to the rooftops, because while seeing strange things in the streets was somewhat normal after the Omnic Crisis, her bluish skin was fairly easy to recognize, and after Mondatta’s assassination, too many people connected Widowmaker to international terrorists. But Sombra had just gotten out of the hospital, didn’t have her translocator and when she couldn’t find gaps that she could easily jump Widowmaker had to carry her along as she swung with her grappling hook.  
  
    The whole situation grew awkward after the third time that Sombra was left glancing from the gap between buildings to Widowmaker and back, not wanting to ask for help but knowing she wouldn’t make it through alone.  
  
    Fortunately, Widowmaker was an expert at not caring about awkward.  
  
    Despite their difficulties, they managed to get in place before Reaper did. He practically had to cross the city to get to the hospital. They settled in, on the rooftop of the house from across the street, and Amélie put her rifle eye and started to surveil their target through the visor of her riffle.  
  
    “It’ll be an easy job for you, yeah? It’s a really normal house.”  
  
    “Is the girl home or am I just going to terrorize a random family for the fun of it?”  
  
    “She’s home. It’s three in the morning. Where the fuck else would a twelve-year-old child be?”  
  
    “I don’t know. I went lots of places at weird times when I was twelve.”  
  
    “Yes, but she’s a normal kid.”  
  
    “Sure, normal.”  
  
    “Would you, uh, like to talk about it?” it came out more strained than she’d hoped for. Not at all natural. Too sudden. Fuck, if she was awkward Sombra wouldn’t talk. “I think it’d be good.”  
  
    “Thanks, but I don’t need a therapist.”  
  
    “Great, because I’m not one,” she turned to stare at her partner. “Just offering to listen. Get it off your chest and concentrate on the mission.”  
  
    “That sounds more like you.”  
  
    Widowmaker didn’t reply, and Sombra didn’t start talking, so she just went back to surveillance, telling Sombra what she saw through the windows so she could get an idea of the layout.  
  
    They waited like that for the signal, with Widowmaker murmuring details and Sombra asking for the occasional clarification.  
  


* * *

  
  
    Trying to be casual had flown out the window a few hours ago. Sombra just couldn’t do it. The whole situation was fucking weird and she was done pretending to be okay with it. But she had still intended to go through with the ignoring the whole problem part of the plan. It was just that other people would be able to tell it was making her somewhat unhappy.  
  
    Well. She doubted that any of her teammates had actually bought her act. They were fairly perceptive people. Widowmaker’s offer was still tempting, if she was being honest. She did feel like talking about it would help her get her mind off it for a little while, but if she was going to be unloading, a highly trained killer with impaired feelings wouldn’t be her first choice. Even if said killer was one of the closest things to a friend she had.  
  
    In hindsight, a therapist would have been nice. Or just someone who wasn’t a dangerous criminal ready to judge anyone who showed the smallest sign of weakness as a liability.  
  
    She just stayed quiet. The safer, easier, better option, in her opinion.  
  
    Then, suddenly, Widowmaker tilted her head and brought the vibrating communicator to her ear, putting it in place. Sombra brought out her own and did the same. Reaper’s voice came through, loud and clear.  
  
    “I’m in place,” he said. “Ready to start blowing up the hospital. Los Muertos came through, they’re watching the streets around.”  
  
    “We’re also ready to go here. Seems like an easy in and out. Shouldn’t be any trouble.”  
  
    “Wait for the fireworks, then.”  
  
    “Copy that.”  
  
    Communications cut off and Widowmaker nodded towards her. “You know the plan. I’ll keep a eye out.”  
  
    “I’ll try to be quiet.”  
  
    The explosion was easy to spot. It lit up the night sky nice and bright. Dorado was big enough that the sound didn’t wake up the whole neighbourhood in which they were, but Sombra bet that Reaper would have company really soon.  
  
    All the more reason to get things done as fast as possible. They were going to need a quick retreat.  
  
    “I’m going,” she said, and Widowmaker gave her a nod as she handed her the rope of her grappling hook, holding on to the other end, so she could make her way down. She hit the floor quietly and made her way to the back door of the house, crouching next to it so her gaze was level with the lock.  
  
    In her experience, quiet was better, so she brought out a set of lock picks and started to work on the door. She was out of practice. Too much infiltrating high security places where opening doors required hacking security systems and not enough normal places with normal locks for normal keys. But she’d spent her youth in a street gang and she knew how to do a bit of burglary, so after a minute the door clicked open and she slipped inside.  
  
    The back door led into the storage area of the bakery. She moved in and got to the kitchen, a cozy room, nicely decorated in soft greens, with tiles that were starting to show a bit of wear lining the walls and the floors. In a corner, a leaky dishwasher churned, making a racket that told Sombra that it was very close to dying for good. She glimpsed through another doorway the front of the store, and headed instead to the side, where a wooden staircase led to the second floor. She could already see that it was going to creak loudly and obnoxiously. Fantastic.  
  
    Sure hope they’re not light sleepers, she thought as she set her foot on the first step and slowly placed her weight on it. She felt a bit idiotic, tiptoeing up the stairs as if she were some kid who had run down to the kitchen for a midnight snack and didn’t want her parents to know, instead of a highly trained agent armed with a machine gun, who, if everything went well, would only be facing bakers.  
  
    But if everything went better than well, she might be able to get the girl without the parents finding out, so she stuck to tiptoeing, and when she reached the landing she paused to listen for any noise coming from any of the rooms.  
  
    Not being an absolute idiot, she had forgone her shiny purple outfit for the day and was bundled up in a dark, washed out grey sweater with a big hood. She pulled it up, and she hid the lower half of her face with a neck gaiter. Not the most fashionable of looks, but if things went south she’d have a chance of keeping her identity under wraps.  
  
    She crept down the hallway, trying to remember what Widowmaker had told her of the house. First window had the blinds closed, so no idea of what lay there. It would be the window of the first room to the right, so Sombra peeked in through a half open doorway and found a small studio, with not much more than a chair, a desk, and a bunch of papers carelessly thrown on top of it. She moved on. Second and third window were the parents’ bedroom, it seemed. On the other side of the corridor she found a bathroom and then, finally the girl’s bedroom.  
  
    Another pause to listen. No sign of anyone being awake. She pushed the door open a bit wider and slipped inside, moving to stand right next to the sleeping girl. God, she felt creepy, watching children sleep. Should get this over with as fast as possible. Moving quickly she pressed a hand over the girl’s mouth and used the other and also one of her knees to hold her down and stop her from struggling. She came awake with a small, muffled scream and a bit of thrashing.  
  
    “Shh. _Mejor si no haces ruido, ¿vale?_ ”  
  
  
****  
  
    Curiously, the explosion didn’t wake him up. It took a bunch of panicked neighbours coming together in the street, talking to each other with concern-filled voices and making phone calls to drag him out of the stupor that his exhaustion had left him with. He found himself curled up with his plasma riffle held tightly and his visor still in place, lying down in an alleyway where he had a bit of protection from the chilly wind. He sat up, guessing that he was going to have to move elsewhere if he wanted to get more sleep, and wandered out of his tiny alley. That’s when he saw the flames rising from a few blocks away and licking at the night sky.  
  
     _Fuck._  
  
    He should go. He should really head that way, shouldn’t he? On the other hand, Dorado had its own police force to deal with such things, and he really, really needed to rest. But it could be los fucking Muertos again, and he had precisely decided to stay for a while to deal with the gang, hadn’t he? So he should go.  
  
    Six years ago, there would have been no questions. He would have started sprinting the second he saw the orange glow in the sky.  
      
    Even now, the dilemma didn’t stop him for long. He found himself jogging towards the explosion, even as he wondered what was the better decision. What was that he’d told the kid he’d saved a couple weeks before? Old habits die hard.  
  
    They sure did, but he was set on murdering that one as fast as he could. Altruistically saving strangers was a great thing to do when you were leading an international task force designed for that purpose. Not so much when you were on your own with a host of enemies at your back. A shame, maybe, but he needed to look after himself first now if he wanted to get anywhere. And in the end, trying to keep everyone safe had ended up with him buried under a big pile of rubble after a whole building collapsed on him.  
  
    Old habits die hard, but at least he was only jogging, and he was only going because los Muertos might be involved. He didn’t plan on diving straight into the fire to save people and drag the victims out to safety. Not at all.  
  
    He tried to stop a man on his way to find out more about what happened, but he only managed to get a couple of sentences in panicked Spanish out of him before he tore out of his grasp and left him standing there.  
  
    His Spanish, once good both for diplomatic contexts and for trading friendly insults with a certain cowboy at a dinner between friends, had become rusty. But it was enough for him to understand most of what was said.  
  
    The hospital had been attacked. No one was quite sure of what was going on. The police was on its way. Someone had seen members of los Muertos rumbling in the streets with a couple of officers. It seemed like he had been right to follow his hunch, that the gang was, in fact, involved. Well, if they were blowing up hospitals now they were really stepping up their game. This was a bit more noticeable that their usual business.  
  
    What the fuck would they want with the hospital, in any case? Expensive tech, maybe? It didn’t really matter. He was going to deal with them for good, in any case.  
  
    The man who had once been Strike Commander Jack Morrison, and who had become Soldier: 76, random vigilante without much of a purpose, took off running properly. Knowing the importance of having information about the situation and one’s enemies, he stopped a couple more people to ask about what was happening. Most of them told him the same. Hospital blown up, los Muertos preventing police officers and emergency services from getting where they needed to be. Someone had seen a fight break out a couple streets away. Five of los Muertos’ people had stopped an ambulance. Two policemen were already there.  
  
    He headed that way, stopping one last sobbing man to see if he could get anything new. The man told him that someone had spotted a black-figure with a creepy white mask and a pair of big ass guns running around the hospital. He didn’t know if it was actually true, but he’d heard the rumor. It chilled Soldier: 76 to the core, but he thanked the man and kept running towards the fight.  
  
    Such an accurate description was probably not a rumor, which meant that, for some reason, Reaper was working with los Muertos to hit the hospital. Didn’t fit with Talon’s usual targets. Didn’t fit with anything. Maybe it was just a rumor. Maybe it was someone else in a creepy mask. In any case, it changed his plans. He couldn’t just track down los Muertos and beat them up. He had to actually head to the hospital and see if the rumor was true. Because, otherwise, he might be passing up a chance to confront Reaper again. And, more importantly, the person hiding behind Reaper’s mask. It was something that needed to be done, that he needed to do.  
  
    Reaper took his mind off the more immediate problem, which was handling the thugs blocking his way. It made him careless enough that he turned the corner towards the street where the fight was going on without pausing to get a feel of the situation before. At least he still had surprise on his side. He quickly shot a couple charges of his riffle in the vague direction of the gang members and ducked behind the police car stopped in the middle of the street. He ended up crouching next to a scared policeman that was clutching his gun with shaking hands. Just in time, because the thugs let loose a couple of rounds of ammo.  
  
    “ _Mierda_ , he’s here!” one of them screamed. The garbled sounds of someone speaking through a radio reached Soldier: 76’s ears. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t have time to deal with reinforcements. From the other side of the car, the scared policeman’s partner peeked out and shot a couple of rounds from her gun. Soldier 76 nodded to her.  
  
    “ _Joder_. Wonderful night, isn’t it?” she said, reloading her weapon. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to. You here to help?”  
  
    “Sure.”  
  
    “Seems like the boys up there know you.”  
  
    “Yeah, we’ve had a couple of run ins.”  
  
    “Sounds like we might be getting company. If you’re staying, don’t get in the way, please.”  
  
    She leaned out again and he did the same, taking in their position as she shot a couple more times. He got ready to sprint to the corner of an intersecting street, to get a better angle on them, and as soon as there was a lull in the firing, he darted out. This time, he let loose the Helix Rockets, not stopping to see how they impacted on their clumsy barricade and broke it apart. Another shot, and one of the thugs collapsed. He reached his new cover and peeked out to shoot at the remaining guy, who was scrambling for the weapon he’d dropped when the blast had hit. Easy enough to get. He then gave a two fingered salute to the policemen and took off running down the street. He didn’t make it very far before the reinforcements came. Three guys coming from behind, two women setting up to shoot from a rooftop, an older man with a machine gun and  another woman carrying explosives coming at him from the front.  
  
    He heard the police officer curse as she dragged her partner to a better place for cover, trying to take out the ones that were coming from behind. Shit. Explosives woman took out a radio and began speaking into it. Maybe calling for more reinforcements. Maybe telling Talon agents their position. Shit. Things were starting to go south and he needed to move quick if he wanted to fix it.

  
    The girl eventually went still, though her breathing was hurried and loud. Sombra dragged her out of the bed, one hand still clamping down on her mouth, the other holding her wrists together. She was thin. Too skinny.  
  
    “Relax and listen. Here’s how it’s going to be. One way or another, you’re coming with me, yes? So I’m thinking it would be better if you came quietly, because if you make a fuss your parents might wake up, and if they wake up they might do something foolish to help you, and then someone could get hurt. You follow me?” she took care to keep her voice down, whispering into the girl’s ear.  
  
    “I have a gun and I can use it pretty well, but I don’t want to have to shoot anyone tonight. So, what do you say? Are you going to cooperate?” the girl started to tremble a bit, but gave a small nod. “That’s good. Come on, this way.” She dragged her down the hall, down the stairs, making sure they were being as quiet as possible, and out through the back door again. She didn’t linger in the street, but immediately started walking, the child in tow, as she whispered into her comm.  
  
    “I have her. Widowmaker, do you have eyes on us?”  
  
    “I do. I’ll follow you from up here.”  
  
    “We’ll start heading towards the rendez-vous point.”  
  
    “Reaper?” Widowmaker asked. A grunt, and then his voice came through.  
  
    “Almost done here. I’ll meet you there. Just be ready.”  
  
    After that, they made their way in silence, Sombra dragging the girl by the arm and trying to keep to side streets that wouldn’t lead them towards the hospital, where people would be out in the streets. They didn’t manage it. It seemed like the conflict had begun to spread, turned into panicked stampeding as people struggled to get away from the fire and the fights between los Muertos and the police, and in some places the general chaos had resulting in rioting and vandalizing, with los Muertos instigating it to further distract the police. Things were really getting out of hand around here, but Reaper had reported no trouble so far, and she already had the kid and was heading to safety, so she couldn’t complain too much.  
  
    After passing the hospital from a somewhat safe distance, and when Sombra thought they were out of the thick of it, they came across some of the gang’s members running and shooting at something behind them, and looking a bit terrified.  
  
    “Cut him off, fuck!” one of them screamed. “He’s just one person.”  
  
    Sombra got a glimpse of what they were shooting at. A man in a tacky jacket, wearing a high-tech visor and armed with a state-of-the-art riffle. From the mission debrief, she knew exactly who he was. Nervously she yanked the machine gun out of her belt and shoved the girl behind her.  
  
    “Uh, guys, the soldier is here,” she said into the comm. There was a pause on the other side of the line.  
  
    “I see him. I’ve got it, Sombra, keep moving,” Widowmaker said. And a few seconds after a loud shot rang out. Soldier: 76 dived to the side, the bullet embedding itself on his shoulder. Fuck that.  
  
    “Where are you?” Reaper asked.  
  
    “A second. I’ll send you our location,” Widowmaker said. Sombra saw her duck behind a chimney for a short moment before leaning out to fire another shot towards the soldier. Distracted, she went to grab back onto the girl, only to have her foot stomped on and an elbow shoved into her stomach, driving the air out of her. The kid twisted out of her grip easily and ran away… straight towards the fight between los Muertos and Soldier: 76.  
  
    Sombra came up with two reasons why she could have done that instead of running away from the gunshots. She was either an idiot, or crazy. She yanked the neck gaiter down and waved her arms at the gang members.  
  
    “Hey, stop! I need the kid alive, okay? No shooting the kid or the deal is off,” thankfully some of them recognized her and halted the fire, signalling to the others to do the same. But they didn’t back up, they stayed in place, surrounding the soldier’s little hideout.  
  
    “Sombra, what the fuck is going on?” Reaper growled in her ear.  
  
    “We lost the kid,” it’s Widowmaker who answers, as Sombra is too busy trying to figure out her next move. “She ran towards Soldier: 76 and now they’re hiding together behind a car.”  
  
    “What the fuck. Stall if you can. I’m almost there, and if I can surprise him we might be able to get her back. Then you get out and I distract my old friend.”  
  
    “Good enough for me,” she muttered, before turning her attention back to the matter at hand.  
  
    “ _Eh, soldado_ , how about we all chill for a second?” she called out, lowering her gun a bit. “None of us want the kid getting caught in the crossfire, isn’t that right?”

* * *

  
    He’d been doing well until Widowmaker showed up and put a bullet in his good arm. If she was here, the chances of Reaper being more than just a rumor increased significantly, but pinned down by a sniper his chances to make it to the hospital in time to confront his old friend were almost null. He’d settle for dealing with Widowmaker. She was enough of a threat to warrant his full attention, and he had no doubt that it wouldn’t be the last time Reaper popped into his radar.  
  
    Then, a girl came barreling straight towards his hiding place and practically tackled him, trembling a bit and holding on as if her life depended on it. It took a while until he got over his initial shock and realized that he did, in fact, recognize the kid. She was the one he’d shielded from the granade blast back during a scuffle with los Muertos. Alejandra, he’d learned after. Well, she sure seemed to always be in the middle of the gang’s business, one way or another. He frowned at her, though she probably couldn’t make his expression out through the visor.  
  
    “Uh…” that’s all he, disconcerted as he was, managed to say. The kid straightened out a bit as the gun shots outside faded.  
  
    “Can you help me again?” she asked, and even though she was visibly afraid he could see that she was determined to push through and find solutions. A good kid. “There’s a woman out there, she dragged me out of my house,” now she was rushing through the story in a quiet whisper, speaking quicker and quicker. Impulsively he grabbed her hand.  
  
    “It’s going to be okay,” he said. After saying it, half of him wanted to bash his head against the car. There went his efforts to be realistic and stop playing hero and defending random people when it set him back. Again, all because of the same child. The other half of him couldn’t bring himself to really regret it. Children deserved to be able to look at the future with optimism, and to have adults look after them and their well-being. They didn’t deserve to be a casualty in a street fight.  
  
    The gunshots dwindled and then stopped altogether. Soldier: 76 risked half a glance through the car’s windows and saw that the guns were still pointed at them. He ducked back down. He couldn’t see the sniper from where he was. Getting out of his predicament had become much more urgent and much more difficult now that Alejandra was with him. And even though it might not be the ideal situation, he was ready to admit to himself that he hadn’t strayed far enough from his idealistic days to leave a twelve-year-old girl to be kidnapped by a gang and their associate terrorist organization. So yes, for the moment, Alejandra was with him, and dealing with Talon and los Muertos had to take a backseat to getting her home safely. And then possibly hanging around for a while to make sure no more kidnapping attempts happened to come her way.  
  
    On the other side, a woman was calling out to him, saying something about not accidentally shooting the kid. By his side, Alejandra was shaking her head.  
  
    “That’s her. That’s the one who…” she muttered. He nodded in acknowledgement and brought a finger up to his lips. Or, better said, to where his lips were behind the visor, in a shushing motion. It seemed to be good enough. She got the message and nodded back at him.  
  
    “Hey, you hear me back there?” the woman called out again. Her English had an accent, and he had spent enough time in Dorado to recognize that she was from the town itself. Was she with los Muertos, then?  
  
    “Loud and clear,” he replied.  
  
    “Yeah, that’s nice. How about it, then? Let the kid come out, so she can clear out of the scene, and we can all go back to killing each other without throwing child murder into the mix.”  
  
    Alejandra’s grip tightened on his arm. He leaned his head back on the car. He tried to make sense of things. Reaper raiding the hospital and hiring los Muertos to distract the authorities while he got what he wanted, that he could understand (even though he couldn’t fathom what Reaper would need from a hospital). Los Muertos wanting to fuck with Alejandra for separate reasons, that was also plausible. It even made sense that they had taken advantage of the chaos from the explosion to kidnap her. And then he’d just happened to stumble across the kidnaper while chasing Reaper? But why would Widowmaker be with los Muertos instead of helping Reaper on site? He was pretty sure that taking care of Dorado’s tattered police force wouldn’t warrant her skills.      
  
    “No,” he said.  
  
    “Taking hostages? Doesn’t that go against your, uh, code, or whatever?”  
  
    “What makes you think I have a code?”  
  
    “Well, I mean,” she seemed to hesitate. Good, he needed time to figure out a solution. Maybe the policemen he’d left behind four blocks away would catch up. That’d be nice. But he couldn’t count on that. He needed a plan. A good plan. The kind of plan that ended with dead los Muertos’ people and him running away into the sunrise with the kid and preferably no more wounds. Those were hard to come by. “I’m sure you don’t just do stuff randomly, right? Like, one has to have some kind of morals to follow. Especially if you’re doing vigilante work. There has to be something that tells you how to… uh… do the vigilante shit.”  
  
    She was rambling, he noticed, and he realized that he might not be the only one whom stalling would benefit. Had she called for reinforcements? But, for some reason (and he had a feeling that her own personal moral code wasn’t it) she didn’t want Alejandra dead just yet. Reinforcements wouldn’t help her too much with getting her back. Maybe she was waiting for Widowmaker to find a position from which she could get a clean shot on him. That would let them advance on Alejandra without too many problems.  
  
    One thing was clear. He needed to move quick. He brought a hand up to his visor, activating the targeting system. Maybe his best bet was to quickly wipe out the rest of his enemies. Starting with the sniper, if posible. If she entered his range, he would know right away. He took another peek to see how they were positioned. He’d have to be quick, and it would be brutal. He signaled to Alejandra to stay were she was and to keep low as he started to shuffle to the edge of his cover. He had some advantages: they weren’t currently willing to outright shoot at him, and they weren’t expecting him to make a move while surrounded and heavily outnumbered.  
  
     _Too bad. Turns out, I’m dumber than you think_.  
  
    “Sure. But you’re not getting her,” he said after a silence. He needed time. He needed as much of an edge as he could get. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”  
  
    _Because I sure am_.  
  
    “Well, Soldier: 76, if you’re not an idiot, then let’s make a deal, yeah? How about you let that kid go and I don’t tell everyone exactly who’s hiding behind that mask?”  
  
    Now, that. That had to be a bluff. There was no way that los Muertos knew his identity. Not a local street gang, right? But Talon would. Talon did, in fact, because Reaper did. The question was, would they share such information with a gang they occasionally employed for dirty work? Just in case they fortuitously ran into him and had to blackmail him? Doubtful. He thought no, but it still made him hesitate.  
  
    “Hey, man, we’re having a conversation here,” she said after he’d stayed in silence for a minute. “Kinda need you to answer for it to work.”  
  
    “Fuck you,” he said, ducking out and firing a couple of rounds at the closest thugs. They hit, of course they hit. His aim aid was active, but he knew it wouldn’t run forever, so he quickly rolled behind another car and, aiming over the hood. He managed to down three more before he caught sight of Widowmaker setting up in the corner of his eye and had to duck back down to avoid a shot to the head. He shuffled sideways, getting better cover from the sniper. She wouldn’t give him much more trouble, he thought hefting the riffle back up. He knew where she was now, so he darted out quickly and shot another round of Helix rockets in her direction, hiding again without stopping to see if they took her out for good or not. “No deal,” he called out loudly.  
  
    “Yeah, I figured,” he saw her coming around towards where Alejandra was still hiding, curled up and trying to make herself as small as possible. He shot in her direction, forcing her to back up again, and then his aim aid powered down to its normal functions. It would have to be good enough.  
  
    “Alejandra, that way,” he pointed down to the side of the street he had managed to clear. “I’ll cover you.”  
  
    Soon she was past him and sprinting away as fast as she could while the woman, whose face he properly saw now for the first time, spoke in very fast paced Spanish into a communicator.  
  
    “Are your reinforcements late?” he chuckled, gunning down another man. She shot a spray of bullets in his direction. He guessed she was done with playing diplomat. Could he spare a batch of Helix rockets on her? Probably. No sign of Widowmaker, and Reaper had probably cleared out a while ago. Other than that, los Muertos was beginning to scatter. The fight was going to be ending soon and she was the biggest threat he could see, if only because the others listened to her. He was getting ready to shoot when he heard Alejandra’s scream behind him. He went to turn around and, in return, he barely managed to avoid another round of bullets. A couple clinked off his visor and warnings started to flash red before his eyes. Circuits damaged.  
  
   _Careless, you fucking idiot, who the fuck turns their back on an enemy?_  
  
    But it didn’t really matter, because right there in the middle of the street, holding on to Alejandra with one arm and a couple of bags from a local supermarket on the other, was Reaper. Alejandra wasn’t going quietly, kicking and screaming in his grasp, and swinging a small fist against his side, but it wasn’t achieving too much. It made a curious picture. It was probably the bags. Soldier: 76 braced himself.  
  
    “Thought you were going to miss the fight,” he rasped out, reloading his riffle.  
  
    “ _Llegas tarde, joder_ ,” said the woman he’d been fighting this whole time. Reaper turned his head to the side just in time for Widowmaker to land beside him, limping and bruised, but otherwise mostly unharmed. He ignored both of the sentences directed at him.    
  
    He was sure he couldn’t take both at the same time, and it seemed he had severely underestimated the other woman by considering her a mere los Muertos goon. Reaper passed the shopping bags and a still struggling Alejandra to Widowmaker, who took them both with the same enthusiasm of a person being handed a pile of shit.  
  
    “Start heading out,” he said, loud enough that Soldier: 76 could catch it. She nodded and aimed her grappling hook at a nearby rooftop. Starting to panic, he did the only thing he could and went to shoot the sniper. If she got away, Alejandra was out of his hands for good.  
  
    A mistake. His distraction meant getting a full blast from Reaper’s shot guns to his abdomen. He grunted, collapsing back against the car. And of course, his shot went wide. A big mistake. Alejandra was gone, and Reaper was coming closer, standing over him, a shotgun pointed at him. But he didn’t shoot right away. He wished he could see his face under the mask, wished he could at least get a glimpse of what was running through his head.  
  
    A harsh blow to his already injured shoulder, and he lost his grip on his riffle. Reaper nodded towards one of the few gang members who was still up and mobile. “All yours,” he said, before stepping back. Soldier: 76 stopped the relieved sigh building up in his chest. None of that. He wasn’t out of the gutter yet, not by far.  
  
    “Not gonna shoot me yourself, Gabe?” it was not a good thing to say right then. It made Reaper hesitate, and Soldier: 76 needed him to leave as soon as posible so he could deal with los Muertos and lay low for a while. Until he figured things out. But after the train wreck of a night he’d had, he was pretty much done with being careful. There was a pause, as Reaper put his hand back on the shotgun for a second. Then he stepped closer again and leaned in.  
  
    “No,” he said. A quick, unexpected blow to the temple followed. Black crawled across his vision, blurring it, and eventually taking over for good.

* * *

  
    Sombra was waiting for him at the corner of the street. He paused next to her for a second to watch the remaining members of los Muertos start to crowd in around Jack’s unconscious form. He looked back at her and started walking again. She covered her face again as she matched his quick steps.  
  
    “Widowmaker, we’re heading your way,” he said.  
  
    “We’re ready to go. As soon as you get here.”  
  
    Good. Better to get out quick, before law enforcement managed to gather itself and actually do something. They headed away from the more crowded streets, and he took care to dissolve into smoke when needed to remain as inconspicuous as posible, now that their objective had been accomplished.  
  
    He was… surprised. Complications and everything, they’d been successful. They’d dealt with Jack’s presence somewhat efficiently, managed to get the girl back after she’d managed to give Sombra the slip. It dawned on him that Moira was right: Sombra was capable, and one of the only people with whom he could work well. And he did need a functional relationship with her. One that was also, preferably, healthy.  
  
    It also dawned on him that he had no clue of how to get that. Their walk back to the aircraft was the first time they’d been left alone since finding out they were related. It was painfully awkward. Sombra was busy staring at everything but him, which he couldn’t really complain about, because they did need to keep an attentive eye out. And him. He couldn’t seem to really focus on anything except on the tense silence between them. He tried anything, and he was thankful for the mask that kept Sombra from reading his expression. He would have been an open book to her. Like everyone else.  
  
    There was only one advantage to the whole situation, and it was that it kept his mind away from another unresolved encounter with Jack in which, somehow, they both walked away with their lives. Again. That wasn’t going to last, and they both knew it. Eventually one of them would die and the other would be left the last one standing.  
  
    Deep down, he wasn’t confident enough to say he was going to be the one to come out on top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's unedited and probably very rough, but hey, I posted. I know it might not seem like it, but I do intend on finishing this. Hopefully soon.
> 
>  
> 
> Translation time:
> 
> Mejor si no haces ruido, ¿vale? = Better if you stay quiet, okay?  
> Mierda = Shit.  
> Joder = Fuck.  
> Eh, soldado = Hey, soldier.  
> Llegas tarde, joder = You're late, fuck.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos even during my long absence. It helps a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading. If you want to come and pester me on social media, I'm on tumblr at @rip-reaper, a side blog where I do fandom stuff (mostly reblogging good art and the such). I'm way more likely to reply soon over there than here, so, drop by if you want to.


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